


Surrender

by frek



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, BDSM, Dubious Consent, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-12-25
Updated: 2003-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-28 08:48:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/306084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frek/pseuds/frek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snape tries to discover what Harry is hiding from him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Surrender

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Merry Smutmas 2003 for Gaaak.

Harry pulled languidly at the metal cuffs that held him to the floor. He had done so several times already, and knew that there was no getting free. Not with his wand in the hands of the pale, dark haired man across the room. He had been cuffed and chained for several minutes now, and the metal surrounding his wrists was just starting to warm against his skin. He squirmed uselessly on the cold floor, the roughness of the cold stone beneath his bare backside sending chills up and down his spine. Harry wondered what exactly the other man had in store for him; what sort of tortures and orders would he force upon him.

Harry heard soft, steady footfalls across the stone floor, coming towards where he lay prone in the middle of the room. The sounds of the footsteps reminded Harry of a grandfather clock, counting the seconds with a sense of trepidation.

He opened his eyes slowly. His eyelids felt heavy, like the dread that filled his gut. It took him a moment to adjust to the dimly lit dungeon and once his eyes were adjusted, he could clearly see the pale face of Snape leaning over him. His eyes were dark and appraising, his mouth a thin line of discontent.

The man was examining him intently. His eyes raked over Harry's thin body, causing an awareness in Harry of his surroundings that he hadn't felt before. He could almost feel Snape's eyes running over his body, the hairs prickling as Snape's eyes drifted further down; just as Harry felt the rough stone scraping against his tender skin and the metal of the cuffs on his fingertips. He closed his eyes under the scrutinizing gaze, not wanting to see the contempt in the other man's eyes.

After several moments, Harry felt Snape step away from him, the warmth of the other man's body disappearing as his footsteps echoed off the damp stone walls. Harry let out a low sigh, glad the examination was over.

"Stand up." The order was direct, forceful.

Harry ignored the man's orders, choosing to keep his eyes closed and his thoughts distant. He was quickly jerked from his thoughts, though, as Snape grabbed Harry's chains and pulled him unwillingly to his feet. His back scraped against the stone as he was pulled up, sending shivers of pain through his body as the sound of metal dragging on stone filled Harry's ears. After several moments, he found his balance and stood shakily before the other man, keeping his gaze focused on his bare feet, unwilling to meet Snape's eyes.

His feet and legs were scratched and dirty, as if he had spent a lot of time in the dungeon, spent a lot of time on the ground. As he examined his own legs, Harry felt Snape move closer to him, he could feel the other man's body near his. Harry continued to stare down at his feet, even after he could see the rough black cloth and shoes that were the clothing of the Potions Master.

"Look at me," came the order that Harry was anticipating.

Harry felt his face grabbed harshly at the jaw. Rough, callused fingers tilted his head forcefully to meet Snape's eyes. Harry closed his eyes to avoid Snape's stare but after several moments, he allowed his green eyes to stare back into the dark pools of Snape's. Contempt filled Snape's gaze, the features of his face, hardened. Harry continued to stare back, stonily, fear hidden just below the surface.

"Who do you think you are, staring at me that way?" Snape asked, raising his hand.

Harry knew better than to answer. Instead, he continued to keep his eyes locked with Snape's. To speak would work against Harry; he couldn't trust his voice, it would let his fears be known. From the corner of his eye, Harry noticed Snape's hand coming towards his face, but he didn't flinch or remove his gaze. He stood still, the expression on his face like the cold stone of the dungeon, unchanging, prepared to take the blow.

As expected, he felt the sting on his cheek from Snape's cool hand. He only broke his gaze for a second as the force of Snape's hand turned him away. He immediately looked back up to Snape's face, feeling the heat rise to his cheek, where Snape's hand had bit seconds earlier.

"Insolent prick." The insult caused Harry to visibly cringe, which Snape caught. "What's the matter, Potter?" His name was spit out with all the usual venom that Snape reserved for him. "Can't take a simple insult?" Snape's eyes seemed to light up with the new knowledge.

Harry stood still, not looking away, his face now showing no clue as to the emotions hidden beneath the surface. He was silently cursing himself for his lack of composure, his inability to keep his face unyielding.

"Not speaking, are we?" Snape asked, pacing a circle around Harry, his eyes sliding over Harry's naked body. Slipping over here, lingering there. A wicked smile began to form on the man's lips as his eyes slid over Harry's cock. "On your knees." Snape paused, standing in front of Harry expectantly.

Harry hesitated, glancing up at Snape, not wanting to be back on the rough stone. Seeing the cold stare on Snape's face, he lowered his eyes to the floor, before settling there himself, the chains clinking as they settled to the ground. Harry kneeled before Snape, his body otherwise straight. He kept his eyes staring forward as Snape stepped closer to him, so close that Harry could see the bulge through the Potions Master's trousers. Recognizing the reaction in the other man, didn't help Harry any, as he felt his own cock begin to twitch and stiffen.

"Open my trousers," Snape ordered, looking down at the other man. "Pull out my cock."

Harry lifted his hands hesitantly to Snape's pants, his eyes settling on a tattered edge of the man's otherwise pristine clothing. He slid his fingers over the button of the man's trousers, pulling it loose. He then moved to slide down the zipper, doing so slowly and deliberately, listening to the quiet clicks of the mechanism as the pale skin of the Potions Master was revealed bit by bit. He paused for a moment, taking a breath before moving on with the task. He pushed the fabric of the trousers aside and reached into the warm pants with his cuffed hands. He found Snape's cock straining against the fabric of his pants and pulled it free.

Harry snuck a glance up at Snape's face, trying to gauge a reaction, but none was visible. Instead, he felt his face being pushed back down roughly, so he was staring at Snape's cock once again.

"Use your mouth," Snape demanded, his voice carrying a cruel tone. He was clearly enjoying this scenario. Harry hesitated a moment, Snape saw. "Now," he said roughly, pushing Harry's face towards his cock.

Harry complied and quickly found his tongue sliding over the hard shaft of Snape's cock. He leaned in closer to Snape, letting his eyes settle on the man's pale stomach, as he slid his lips over the head and ran his tongue around it. He continued working Snape with his tongue and lips, examining the other man's abdomen. How flat Snape's stomach was and how just below the man's navel the dark trail of curly hair began, leading down towards his cock, where Harry was currently lavishing with attention from his mouth.

Snape's fingers were twisted into a fist in Harry's mess of hair; he could feel the man's long fingernails digging into his scalp, sending sensations of pain through his body. And if his teeth bumped Snape's cock, as they did every so often, he felt his hair being pulled harshly, adding to the pain he was already feeling.

As he worked on Snape's cock, Harry allowed his hands to touch and stroke his own, as it was beginning to ache with the need to be handled. As he did so, he tried his best to hide the waves of pleasure that began to slide through his body, continuing to suck and lick Snape's cock to the best of his ability. After a few moments, he pulled his mouth from Snape's cock, using his tongue to stroke the underside of it. Shortly after, Harry stopped touching himself, knowing full well, that if Snape saw him doing so, he'd be punished. He glanced up at the man, almost timidly.

Snape stepped away from Harry, eyeing the other man's face, which was crimson around his lips, and still exhibited some color from his hand earlier. "Stand up," Snape demanded once more, cruel contemplation showing on his features.

Harry got to his feet, shakily, his desire making him weak. His knees ached, he could feel the scratches on them from the rough stone; they burned. Once again, he kept his eyes towards the ground. He felt Snape's fingers on his jaw, gentle at first, but quickly rough as his face was tilted up to look at the other man.

Harry tried his best to cloak the fear plaguing his mind. Snape posed a daunting figure to Harry. His eyes were wild and dark, almost like those of a crazed man. Sweat was beading on the man's brow, sliding down his nose, dripping from the end. His teeth were bared from behind his thin lips, yellowed and sharp. Harry looked upon Snape's face, gathering all the details in his mind, trying to compose himself somehow.

"Was that the best you could do?" Snape's voice sounded high, irrational.

Harry nodded, turning his eyes away from Snape's. A second later, he felt his head being pushed away, and his body following suit. Harry glanced up at Snape as he fell to the floor, catching a glimpse of the satisfied smirk plastered on the man's sallow face.

Harry landed hard on his backside, chains clanging as they hit the stone and a flat slap sounding as his body hit the ground.

Harry lifted his head up slowly from the ground, pain coursing through his body from the fall. He could feel the pain stemming from his backside and elbows, where he hit hardest, completely sure that he would be exhibiting bruises and scratches the next day.

After a long moment of gathering himself on the floor, Harry moved to stand up, but was quickly stopped by a leather clad foot on his chest.

"Did I say you could get up?" Snape questioned Harry, looking down at the other man, a smug expression on his usually irritated face.

Harry started to push himself up again, but met resistance. He paused for a second before settling himself back to the floor as he was questioned. "No, sir," he said quietly, his voice was rough, as if he hadn't had a drink in a long while; he spoke barely above a whisper.

"That's what I thought."

Snape removed his foot from Harry and examined the young man, taking in his form, sprawled on the floor. Legs spread wide, chest rising with heavy breaths, his hair a mess and his cock erect while he lay on the floor.

"Stand up," Snape ordered once more, eyeing Harry's body as he moved to stand up.

Harry kept his eyes lowered, struggling to his feet. He could feel the pain pooling from all over his body. His elbows were scraped and bruised; his arse was bruised and aching from the fall, along with the multiple scratches and bruises that were already covering his body. Harry managed to make it to his feet unsteadily, wobbling a bit before finding his balance.

Harry snuck a glance up at Snape as he balanced himself out to see the man keeping observation on him, his eyes narrowed as they ran up and down the length of his lean body. He shivered instinctively as he realized what the man had in his mind for him. All he had to do was allow his eyes to slide down Snape's body to know what was going through his head.

Snape stepped forward slowly, deliberately, placing a hand on Harry's bare shoulder. "Your thoughts betray your actions, Mr. Potter." His voice was soft, mellifluous, sending shivers once again down Harry's scratched back.

Harry glanced up, his face still lowered, catching the mocking expression on Snape features. He had forgotten that Snape knew Legilimency. It had been so long since his days of being the tutored student. So much had happened.

"You act defiant," Snape continued, beginning to circle Harry once more, his voice continuing to slide over Harry like silk. "But your mind... tells me that you would rather submit."

Harry tried his best to close his mind off to Snape. Last thing he wanted was the other man to know what he was feeling.

"Did you really think you could hide such things from me, Mr. Potter?"

Harry fought the need to agree, to comply with Snape. Instead, he continued to withhold his thoughts from Snape, to keep them cloaked.

Harry suddenly found himself sprawled on the floor once more. He had been on the receiving end of yet another hard slap to the face. He sat still on the cold stone for what seemed like hours, his body, trembling madly, attempting some semblance of composure. His face was burning where Snape had hit him. He could feel the imprint of where Snape's hand had bit into his skin.

"Stand up," came Snape's demand.

Harry complied, moving slowly, his strength waning as he finally stood on his feet. He could feel his hands shaking from weakness. He knew that Snape understood what was happening to his body.

Harry heard Snape draw nearer to him as he stood in the middle of the room. He could feel the heat of the other man's body as he stepped close to his own. And within seconds, Harry realized that the other body was as naked and bare as his own.

He tried to hide the sudden realization that Snape was standing next to him, nude and completely aroused, much like himself. Snape knew, though. He knew that Harry was aware.

Harry felt the light touch of Snape's hand, as the man's long fingers traced a line around Harry's body, ending at the top of his arse. Unwittingly, he started to arch into the touch of the other man, accepting the finger as it slid down the crevice and into his opening.

"One has got to be," Snape began to speak again, his words barely a whisper, coming out in intervals as his attention slipped from place to place, "Careful…"

"Careful?" Harry asked, realizing all too late that he had spoken. He felt a sharp pain from the cheek of his arse almost immediately, followed by the light touch of Snape's fingers on the sensitive area. At the same time, he felt something cool touching his entrance, carefully, almost hesitantly, which only caused to heighten the sensitivity plaguing his body.

"Careful," Snape continued, still taking his time in his speech, pushing Harry's head down, so he was leaning over. "Of… what… One wishes."

Without warning, Harry felt something push in and fill his entrance, sending blinding rushes of sensations through his body. Harry barely managed to suppress an oncoming scream into a moan. This was quickly followed by Snape rocking steadily into his body in retaliation for his reaction.

Harry remained bent over, his hands pulling ceaselessly on the heavy chains, restraining him to the spot where he stood. And every time Snape pushed into him again, throwing himself harder and harder into the young man as he went on, Harry struggled against the lightheadedness that plagued his body, which was aching with the desire to be touched. It was all he could do to keep himself from taking his own cock into his hands.

Snape continued to thrust into Harry, his rhythm becoming ever more frantic and erratic. Sometimes he would hit a spot that would nearly cause Harry to collapse with need. Those were the moments when Harry found it most difficult to keep his mind clear and his body strong. But as Snape began to climax, he was finding it harder and harder to ignore his own desires.

Harry felt Snape slow down and finally stop moving inside him several minutes after he had begun with a shaky rhythm. He stood still, unmoving, listening to the ragged breathing of the older man, as he recovered from the act.

They stood that way, coupled for several moments, before Snape saw fit to pull out and continue his domination over Harry. Harry felt Snape pull his cock out, and took that as the moment to straighten up his own aching body.

Harry heard Snape step quietly around him, moving in circles again, appraising the man before him. He took a moment to attempt to straighten up, dropping his heavy arms at his side, wearily submitting to the inspection by Snape.

"So tell me," Snape drawled out, his voice low and calm. "Why does the great Harry Potter subject his much worshipped body to such desecration?"

Snape walked around the prone form of the young man, shivering, scarred, struggling; with what? "What is it that you are hiding?" Snape paused at Harry's side, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

Harry stood still, holding his breath, refusing to answer. His voice would betray him if he spoke. It always did. Instead, he kept his eyes forward, constantly aware of the body standing next to him, dominating his space. And as he struggled to keep his mind far away from the present, he could feel Snape moving closer to him. Very close.

Harry braced himself for the contact. He could feel it coming. He knew it would happen any moment. In the form of a hard slap or a sharp pinch on his arse. Instead all he felt was the warm, moist breath of Snape as it washed over his face, teasing him with the lack of contact.

"Do you enjoy being hurt, Mr. Potter?"

The question threw Harry off guard. He barely managed to hold in a surprised gasp. He closed his eyes tightly, trying to concentrate on closing his mind from Snape. He could feel the man probing into his thoughts, searching for an answer to his question.

"Again you put on the appearance of fighting me, Mr. Potter," Snape observed, taking a long finger to the scars lining Harry's back. He paused for a moment before continuing, "Do you take me for a fool? Do you think I don't know when someone truly doesn't want to feel pain?

Harry half listened to the lecture, subconsciously arching up into the touch, reaching for sensations. But as soon as he moved, Snape's touch disappeared. After the initial disappointment, Harry quickly realized that Snape was no longer at his side. He tried to hide his obvious disappointment.

"What's the matter, Mr. Potter?"

Harry fought to hold in a whimper. Snape was pushing him. Hard. And he couldn't allow the other man in. He couldn't bare his own weaknesses.

"Do you want me to hurt you?"

Harry continued to fight against his urge to scream, to belt out his secrets, his darkest worries. But even as he struggled, he could tell he was fighting a losing battle.

He could feel Snape pushing and probing, digging harder and deeper into the recesses of his mind. And as he attempted one final time to keep his mind closed off from Snape, he knew it was no use. He felt the other man's own voyeuristic mind shove through his weakened barriers and probe into the dark crevices of Harry's. And just like that, he was broken.

Harry could almost feel the smile on the other man's lips. Without even looking, he could see the cruel, smug look of victory that would be plastered on Snape's face. He didn't bother opening his eyes. He knew what he would see: the face of the victor.

So washed up in his emotions of being broken down and his soul bared for the man before him, Harry didn't even realize what was happening to him in the present, until the sensations had taken over his entire body.

Harry suddenly came into the realization of his body as his hands gripped the greasy hair of the man crouched before him in the same urgency he had felt earlier that evening. The feelings and sensations from his body took over Harry's thoughts quickly, effectively washing any feelings of pain or guilt he was having, replacing them with pleasure and a cure to the desire which had held his body hostage all night.

Warmth. A dampness. And a swirling rough feeling. So many different sensations, all inundating Harry's mind with their presence. Within moments he was taken away, riding on waves of pleasure, and a feeling of freedom that had come with his earlier realization. And all too soon, those feelings of pleasure and abandon were a mere memory.

Harry opened his eyes, adjusting to the light of the dungeon as he regained control of his body. He blinked a few times, before fixing his eyes on the hook nosed Potions Master standing before him. After a moment, Harry sidled his own gaze up into Snape's appraising eyes, hoping to catch a glimmer of what the man was thinking behind his contemptuous façade.

Snape's eyes were as distant and cold as ever. And the man wore a smirk that could startle the bravest of souls. "Good day, Mr. Potter." And with a swish of his cloak, he was gone.

Harry felt the chains slip from his wrists as they clattered to the floor. He rubbed his wrists, glancing around the room, taking in his surroundings before moving to clothe himself. He pulled on his boxers, trousers, and socks slowly, remembering the night's events, all of which seemed to end so quickly.

He picked his shirt up from the floor and pulled it over his head, the starched cloth running over his tender back. Little flashes of pain ran through his body, each and every one reminding him of why he did this. After shoving his feet into his worn shoes and picking up his wand, Harry slipped quietly from the dungeons.

Snape may wonder why he did this. But, so did Harry. None of it was his fault. He never asked to be famous.


End file.
